


Bring him home

by myideaofbeautiful



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Immortal Merlin, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myideaofbeautiful/pseuds/myideaofbeautiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been hard, living for millennia without his heart. Waiting, and hoping every moment to no avail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring him home

**Author's Note:**

> I make no profit from this, they belongs to Shine and the BBC.  
> Unbetaed so I'm really sorry for the mistakes. If any of you are willing to beta my works for me I'll really appreciate it.  
> Enjoy!

The park is quiet as Merlin sit under the large Elm listening as it softly whispers in the wind. He can feel the low buzz of magic coming from the undergrowth, their leisurely movements as the tendrils curl over the space, connecting and swirling past each other.

Eyes closed, he can feel the steady drumming underneath his feet, feeling the tendrils drum against the souls of his feet reaching for the power thrumming through his own veins.

It’s calming here, one of the few places left that could make him feel at home. Not completely, never completely. But still the faintest spark of familiarity is enough to dull the constant ache that had long since took its residence in his heart.  
It’s been hard, living for millennia without his heart. Waiting, and hoping every moment to no avail. It was awful somehow, feeling the anticipation built, knowing that every time that darkness rolled around and the TV and radio stations declared their fate, he would feel the familiar bloom of hope in his chest. He sometimes hated himself for it, for feeling giddy with hope as the rest of the nation sat in their houses grieving for the loss that lay ahead.

The hardest, Merlin thinks had been the fight in himself. The constant battle between hope and despair. And although it has been millennia and the wars between men may have settled for now, this war never has.

The wind picks up a notch, distant rumbling of thunder and the sweet smell of rain is starting to fill the air. When Merlin opens his eyes he lift his head a little and allows his eyes to roam the sky. It’s grey and thick, and Merlin feels himself longing for a last few rays of sunshine.

When the football hits his leg he gives a disapproving glare at the stitched unit of hexagon and pentagon patterns. As the patting of feet grows closer Merlin reaches down and picks it up.

“Hey man, I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”

Merlin’s hand fists around the ball, feeling the familiar pull as his magic reaches out, singing its reconciliation. He’s afraid, he doesn’t think he’s ever been more afraid in his entire life. But he looks up. Can’t bring himself not to.

Arthur stood silent, familiar blue eyes watching him. His hair is dark from sweat and his university hoody clings to his body. It’s red and modern and Merlin feels his hands shaking. He knows he’s making the boy uncomfortable but he can’t seem to stop watching. He slowly rises out of his seat and move until he’s as close as he is allowed by propriety before looking down at the ball in his hands and holding it out towards Arthur. He can feel the magic buzzing beneath his fingertips and he clings to them desperate to keep them in and at the same time wanting to let them out just as much as they are fighting to get their way.

He tries to speak but the words get stuck in his throat, blocked by the big knot of tears and laughter and regret and words that took millennia to construct correctly. Somehow looking at Arthur made saying anything at all impossible.

“You always were a prat.” Merlin finally says, trying to push back the sobs waiting to break through. The tears forming in his eyes blurs his vision and he blinks them back because losing sight of Arthur, even for a second, was agony.

Arthur looks like he wants to say something, brows drawn in both disbelief and indignation, but he pauses and as his blue eyes runs over Merlin’s face, Merlin keeps his eyes on Arthur’s own.

“Do I know you?”

“You tell me.” Merlin tried smiling but the desperation was heavy as it sat on his lungs labouring his breath.

“Well that’s one way to answer it.” Arthur snorted as he reached out and took the ball. Merlin’s hands tightened painfully around it but he forced himself to let go.

“I’m Merlin.” Merlin extended his hand. Arthur took it, warm fingers resting against Merlin’s palm. At his touch the magic raging inside him settled, Merlin felt like ever since Arthur’s death he had been stuck in a twister and now, finally, he had reached its eye.

“Arthur,” Arthur said.

They both looked up as the rumbling of thunder sounder again, closer this time.

“Storm’s coming.” Arthur said eyes trained on the grey blankets sagging with weight, as they waited to shower their load.

Merlin’s eyes rested on Arthur, smile stretching his lips.

“Yeah, but the sunrise is going to be breath taking.”

***


End file.
